Heads and Tails
by Remus's Nymph
Summary: When Marcus, Penelope, Percy and Oliver face the hard choices of friendship, family, love and hate, they all wish it were as easy as flipping a coin.
1. Chapter One

**Dedications: To my beta, Cedar, to the ladies at SHALLOW, and to Scott.**

*

"Mr. Flint! Mr. Wood!" shrieked Professor McGonagall.

The Great Hall was a disaster. The Gryffindor table had been overturned. The Slytherin table, on the other side of the room, had been mysteriously broken into two. Many first years, and even a dozen or so second years, had hidden under the Hufflepuff table. Most of the prefects had their wands ready. Those that didn't had been victims of the food fight. In the middle of it all, at each other's throats, were Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, both in their fourth year.

"What in Merlin's beard is going on?" demanded McGonagall.

"He started it," both boys stated, pointing at each other.

"Fifty points off Gryffindor!" roared Snape, looking sadistically at Oliver.

"And fifty off Slytherin," agreed McGonagall, although by the look on Snape's face, that wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"And a detention for both of you," Dumbledore added, with his own private smile. "You will each see your Head of Houses at five for your punishment." As he waved his wand in the air, the mess was cleared.

"That was so idiotic, Oliver," Percy Weasley said, pushing through the crowd to get to him. "Why did you pick a fight with Flint?"

Oliver glared over at the Slytherin and, after wiping away some blood from his bottom lip, said, "Bloody git said I was a pouf!" He allowed Percy to help him carry his books. "A pouf, Percy! He called me a pouf."

Percy rolled his eyes. Fights between Oliver and Flint had been going on since their first year; it was like watching the sun rise every morning, or knowing if you were a Gryffindor you wouldn't get full marks in Snape's class. Unfortunately, Gryffindor wasn't winning many points, which hadn't given them the opportunity for the House Cup. "Let's just go," he said. "We have Transfiguration now."

"Great fight, Oliver!" a chirpy voice interrupted.

"Really brilliant. You showed him!" another agreed.

Percy didn't have to turn around to recognize the voices of the two most annoying siblings any boy could have: Fred and George. "Go away," he told them.

"Why?" Fred asked, looking hurt. "Oliver doesn't want us to go, does he?"

Oliver just groaned, and rubbed his arm. "I reckon I broke it," he whined. Then, looking at both twins suspiciously, he said, "Who are you two again?"

"They're my brothers," Percy said, cutting George off. "You know, Fred and George."

"Ah, yes," Oliver said, doubtfully. "Of course. Another bunch of Weasleys. Come on, Perce, I think I broke my arm."

"We're going to try out to be Beaters for the Gryffindor Quidditch team," said George, sticking out his chest proudly. "Charlie, our older brother, was Seeker."

Oliver's eyes popped out. "Oh, of course! More relations of _the_ Charlie Weasley." He grinned at Percy, then looked at the twins. "I'm sure you'll get a spot on the team. Careful with Helen, though, she's really tough in choosing her players."

As if on cue, Helen Clearwater passed by Oliver. Turning to face him, she said, "Watch it, Wood, or you won't be captain when I graduate." She gave Percy a wicked grin, and went off with her friends.

Oliver muttered something that sounded like "Mudblood" to Percy, but said nothing else.

"Let's go, or McGonagall will have a fit," Percy said finally. He dragged Oliver away from the twins, to whom he yelled, "Stay out of trouble!"

The twins snickered and ran off after Lee Jordan, who had been collecting bets on Oliver's fight. "Those who said Snape was going to break up the fight, start paying up!" he yelled, looking quite happy.

"Eurgh," whined Oliver, clutching his arm even harder. "Percy, I think I broke it."

Percy sighed. Before he had attended Hogwarts, he had taken on the task of baby-sitting the twins, Ron, and Ginny while his parents were out, or if Charlie or Bill couldn't make it. It was always hard, since the twins always got into trouble, Ron would spend half his time crying, and Ginny was always the curious, dangerous baby. As soon as Percy had been sorted into Gryffindor, he was sure his baby-sitting problems would be over, but he was wrong. Oliver had come along, and he was three times the problem all the Weasleys were put together. Oliver was a Quidditch-obsessed, Muggle-born hating, whining boy. He had his good points, but there were times when Percy just wanted to hex him.

"Percy, are you listening?" Oliver asked, his voice breaking into another whine.

"Oh, shut up, Oliver," Percy growled. "Serves you right for looking for a fight with Flint. Go to Madam Pomfrey; I'll tell McGonagall."

Oliver grinned at him, all traces of brat gone, and started walking towards the infirmary. "Thanks, Perce," he said. "You're the best."

Something about that just made Percy glow.

*~*~*

It was five o'clock, and Percy was busy working on his Care of Magical Creatures homework - two full parchments on the mating habits (and here Percy blushed every time he heard the word) of the Jarvey. Oliver was off to see McGonagall about his detention, so Percy took the time to pass through his O.W.L. notes, something he had learned from Bill. Sleep was starting to take over, and he had to keep saying, "I will be a prefect. I will be the best. I will be prefect," to keep him focused.

"Hullo, Percy," Joanna Boot said, sitting next to him shyly.

"Hello, Joanna," Percy greeted, thankful for the small break.

"You remember when I missed my Potions class?" the brunette asked. Percy nodded, thinking that she was lucky Snape hadn't tried to poison _her_. "Well," Joanna continued, "I really need to complete my notes on the antidotes for _Cordiall Venom_, but no one seems to have them. Could I borrow yours?"

Percy looked like he was about to say yes, but instead he shook his head. "Sorry, Jo, but I really need to study for the upcoming exam. You understand."

Joanna, being a bookworm herself, nodded solemnly. "Do you know anyone that might have them? I asked Ferdinand, but his were burnt by a pixie."

"You could ask Oliver," suggested Percy. "You know that's his favorite class, excluding Snape and all."

"Are you joking?" she hissed. "He hates Muggle-borns!"

Percy sighed. She _did_ have a point. Oliver hardly talked to anyone that was Muggle-born, must less lend them schoolwork. "Look," he said, "I'll ask Oliver for the notes, then I'll give them to you. But you have to return them by the end of the week!"

Joanna squealed and gave him a tight hug. "Thanks, Percy," she said, smiling, "you're the best."

"So I've heard," Percy said with a small smile. "All right, I'll give you the notes at breakfast."

Joanna smiled again, gathered her things, and went to speak to Amanda, another girl in their class.

It was in that precise minute that Oliver barged into the Common Room, out of breath and flushed the color of a radish. He walked towards Percy, looking thrilled, and sat on one of the chairs.

"What happened?" asked Percy. Oliver had only looked like that two times - when they had named him Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and when he had kissed Rosa, a fifth year Hufflepuff.

Between shallow breaths, Oliver looked at Percy, and said, "I - I was coming back from McGonagall, because she told me to see Filch at seven." Oliver wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I was walking here, and I bumped into two Slytherin seventh years. They were mad because I made them lose fifty points, so they started chasing me - me! - down the hall." Percy wondered where he was going with all this. "I crossed all the way from the Astronomy Tower towards the other side of the school," continued Oliver proudly, "but then they started to catch up with me, so I ducked into the first room I saw. Percy, you should have seen this room! It wasn't a regular classroom; we've never seen it before. There were all these odd symbols - and - and, oh, come see it, Percy!"

Percy cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. If he understood Oliver, his best friend had found some secret room while being chased by two Slytherin bullies. Percy had never had an adventure in his life. Bill got to go to Egypt, and Charlie off to Romania with dragons, and Percy had always envied them. Now, according to Oliver, there was an adventure right in the school!

"Come on, Percy, please!" Oliver said. "Imagine what it could be! Perhaps a room full of galleons." His eyes glazed over. "Imagine how many brooms I could buy."

Percy rolled his eyes. "All right, I'll go," he said, "on one condition." Oliver looked at him suspiciously. "You lend Joanna your Potions notes."

Oliver's broom face (which consisted of glazed eyes and a goofy, lopsided grin) immediately turned into one of disgust. "I won't lend my things to a Mudb--" Percy's glared cut him off. "Oh, all right," he said grumpily. "But let's hurry. Maybe the room disappears or something."

Percy gathered his things and reluctantly followed Oliver outside. This was going to be a long night - if they weren't caught by Filch first.

*~*~*

Penelope Clearwater, a fourth year Ravenclaw, flipped through _A History of Magic_. She was supposed to have a five-hundred word essay ready for Tuesday, and she had not yet begun. Closing the book, she reached for _The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why the Muggles Prefer Not to Know_, a charming thing she had been given for her Muggle Studies class. Being Muggle-born herself, she always enjoyed seeing what Pureblood wizards had to say about Muggles. Some things were quite hilarious. Much better reading then some old History of Magic bollocks.

"Penelope!" Richard Jones yelled, crossing the common room to see her. Richard was Penelope's older sister's boyfriend. "I need a favor."

Penelope wrinkled her noise. She had forever been Richard and Helen's messenger, taking notes to one or the other. "It's five-thirty," she stated huffily. "Penelope's delivery service is only open until five. Awfully sorry, come back at eight in the morning - after I've had some caffeine."

"Please, Penny," Richard begged, "it's really urgent. Just to the Gryffindor common room and back. No stops or anything, I promise."

After much begging and whining on Richard's part, Penelope finally conceded. "What's the message?" she asked grouchily.

"Tell Helen to meet me at the Astronomy Tower at ten," said Richard, reaching in his pocket, and pulling out a gold necklace. "And give her this, please."

"The third year Hufflepuffs have class at ten," Penelope warned.

Richard bit his bottom lip. "Oh," he said glumly, "all right, tell her eleven-thirty." Penelope nodded, and carefully hid the necklace in her pocket. "You're a doll, Penny," Richard said, giving her a hug. "Thanks."

Penelope returned the hug, and quickly left the common room. Why her older sister had been sorted into Gryffindor, and she into Ravenclaw, she'd never know. It sure was a lot of trouble to deliver her messages.

"Come on, Oliver, hurry up!" a voice commanded. Penelope ducked behind a column nervously. She recognized the voice, but barely. It was Percy Weasley (she blushed at the name), probably with Oliver Wood.

"I'm coming," the person that was probably Oliver said. "I think it was this way."

Penelope watched as both boys walked by her, toward the Charms classroom. She wondered where they were going, especially before dinner. As curiosity got the better of her, she quickly followed them.

*~*~*

The dungeons were a series of hallways that twisted and turned, forming a sadistic maze. A person could go up and down them for hours and just be going in circles. Only the Slytherins knew the dungeons actually had a snake-like pattern, and the only way to not get lost would be to follow the walls. Marcus Flint was doing just this. With one hand on the wall and the other loose by his side, he directed his way towards the infirmary. He cursed as a chill went up his spine. The only places you could seek warmth in the freezing dungeons were the Slytherin common room or the dormitories.

Marcus put his mind back to the task. He had to retrieve his lucky sphinx tooth, which Madam Pomfrey had taken away from him when he had gone to have her fix his broken rib. The tooth had been a gift by his great-grandfather before he had come to Hogwarts. It was suppose to bring him luck in all logic problems, things Marcus mostly failed, and good health, something he mostly had.

Once he had navigated his way out of the musty dungeons, he headed calmly towards the infirmary. He had promised his friends he would meet them for dinner, and there was an hour until then. Moving carefully through the shadows, he stopped suddenly, thinking he had heard voices. After a couple of seconds of silence, Marcus dismissed the thoughts and started walking again.

"All right, now I'm sure it's on the other side," a voice said. Marcus stopped again, and listened. The voices seemed to be coming from right around the corner, and one sounded like Wood's.

"I bloody hope it is," another voice argued. "I'm getting sick of walking into walls, Oliver."

Marcus stuck closer to the walls, completely unaware that parallel to him was Penelope, hidden behind a rusty old suit of armor. He watched as Oliver and his red-haired lapdog carried on, arguing about some old chamber pot -- no, chamber _lot_. Marcus waited until Oliver's footsteps had faded, and he quickly ran to catch up with them, careful to keep as quiet as possible. Maybe he could give those two Gryffindors a scare.

*~*~*

Percy was getting tired of being dragged all over the school. Oliver pulled really hard and Percy was hungry. "Maybe you just imagined it," Percy said. Maybe he was getting paranoid, but he thought he heard footsteps nearby.

"No, no, we're almost there," assured Oliver. "I remember now."

"That's what you said last time," mumbled Percy to himself. He noticed, however, that he hadn't been through this part of the castle . The walls looked older, almost covered in spider webs, and the armor was even rustier than the sets near the Great Hall. He could swear he was still hearing footsteps. _Click, clack, click, clack_.... dragon hide boots, like Bill's. Perhaps he was hearing things. He hoped it wasn't a sign of some mental disease.

"Here it is!" Oliver said suddenly. He had stopped in front of a completely blank wall_._. While the other walls were made of bricks, and lines were fairly visible, this one had none - no lines, no cobwebs - it was like someone placed gray wallpaper on it. Oliver touched the wall with the tips of his fingers, and it shimmered slightly.

Percy let out a small gasp. "How do you get in?" he asked, studying the wall with interest.

Oliver grinned, and stuck his hand through the wall. "It's some kind of illusion," he explained. "You see a wall, but when you touch it, you go right through it. Come on." He stopped when Marcus jumped out of the shadows.

"What do you have here, Wood?" he asked, wand in hand. "A passage out of Hogwarts?"

"What are you doing here, Flint?" Oliver growled, fumbling for his own wand. "Go away."

Marcus edged towards the fake wall, and looked at it curiously. "Where does it lead to?" he asked Percy, ignoring how Oliver was seething. Percy shrugged.

"I said, go away," Oliver hissed, raising his wand.

"I'd be careful, Wood," warned Marcus. "We both know which of us knows more curses."

"Oh!" a voice suddenly squeaked.

"What was that?" Percy asked, looking around suspiciously. "Flint, did you bring someone with you?"

Marcus, who had turned a bit pale, shook his head. "It - it came from over there," he said, pointing to the second statue on his left. "Maybe it's Peeves."

Oliver calmly walked around the statue. When he came out, looking angry and frustrated, he was pulling Penelope.

"Penelope!" Percy exclaimed, looking amazed. "What are you doing here?"

Penelope, who was blushing, murmured, "I heard you, and decided to follow. Sorry."

Oliver looked at Marcus, who was looking at Penelope curiously. "I expect you are here for the same reason?" asked Oliver angrily.

Marcus glared at him, but nodded. "Let's see what you've dug up, Wood."

Oliver grumbled something then turned to Percy. "It's really quite simple," he said, "just walk through it like you do on Platforms 9 and ¾. Bunch up once you've gotten through, it's not very big."

Marcus was the first to go after shoving Oliver away. At first, he looked curiously at Oliver, almost as if doubting what to do, but within a minute, he had crossed the barrier. The second one was Percy, who much regretted having left his O.W.L.'s revision, but all the same passed through the wall confidently.

Penelope cornered Oliver. "Are you sure this is safe?" she demanded, looking frightened.

"Yes," Oliver assured her. "I was in here a few hours ago, though there's not much to do."

Penelope nodded, and quickly crossed, Oliver close behind her.

The sight, in Oliver's opinion, was incredible. The room was no bigger than a small broom closet, hardly enough space to fit four teenagers. Two lit torches ("Probably by a forever-lasting spell," commented Penelope) were on either side of the walls, strong enough to light something written on the wall. It was illegible, at least to Oliver, and he suspected to the other as well. It looked like too much work for Flint, and Percy kept scrunching up his nose, a habit he had when he didn't understand something. It wasn't letters, but more like something Oliver had seen in Ancient Runes class: large symbols in an elegant handwriting cascading on the northern wall.

Suddenly, Penelope let out a squeal. "I know this writing," she said, grinning. "At least, I've seen these runes before."

Marcus had approached them, and gave them a quick glance. "These," he said indicating the writing with a wave of his hand, "are Elfish runes. My grandmother had a book on them." He looked at it closer, ignoring the surprised expressions from the other three. "This, I think," he continued, "says something about a way to open." He stopped suddenly, looking surprised.

"Open what?" Oliver asked excitedly. "You mean there's more?"

Marcus shook his head, and looked at Penelope. "Can you get a book on Elfish runes?"

"Yes," Penelope said, biting her bottom lip, "I know I've seen these runes before. I could ask Madam Pince."

Marcus then looked at the Gryffindors. "I'll help you only if you let me come on this adventure. I know about these things, and you could use my help."

Oliver shook his head stubbornly, but Percy nodded. "Sure, Flint."

Marcus puffed his chest out proudly. "As for you, Mud - Clearwater." He ignored Percy and Penelope's glares. "Let me know when you find the book, and we'll sort out this gibberish."

"Does this mean I can join this 'adventure' too?" Penelope asked, looking happy.

"How do we even know it's an adventure?" Percy asked. "There could be nothing on the other side. It could be all a joke created by the seventh years or something."

"That's why we're going to give it a try!" Oliver said, grinning. "Come on, Perce!"

"We could really use your help," Penelope added.

Percy sighed. "Oh, all right."

The group, excluding Marcus, grinned. "'At's the spirit," Oliver said. "Now, I propose dinner!" And he marched out of the small room. Marcus followed shortly, leaving Percy and Penelope behind.

"Is it safe to trust a Slytherin?" Penelope asked nervously.

Percy shook his head. "Believe me, I think Flint knows more about those runes than he's willing to admit. There's something in this for him. That's the only reason he wants to help."

Penelope nodded, and slipped through the barrier. Once Percy had joined the three students, they vowed not to say anything until further discoveries. Each headed to dinner with doubts of the other.

Oliver and Percy wondered why Marcus had joined them, and what was in it for them. Penelope worried that Oliver and Marcus might kill her in her sleep to get rid of the "Muggle-born." Marcus worried about what he understood of the writing, though he would wait for Clearwater's books to make sure he hadn't misread anything.


	2. Chapter Two

It was early the next morning when Penelope woke up cold, confused, and wondering if the secret room she had seen had been a bizarre dream. Moving across the mess made by her disastrous roommate, Cheryl Janine, she took a quick shower and searched for a cleaner uniform. She had promised Percy, Oliver, and Marcus that she would get to the library to obtain a book on Elfish Runes. Picking up her bag and making sure her wand was securely in her pocket, she headed towards Madam Pince's Cave, as so many Ravenclaws liked to call it.

Being it very early in the morning, Penelope found the library almost empty. Madam Pince was looking over a tattered volume of Herbology 101: What Drugged Merlin, muttering, "Students are a nuisance. Tearing through books like tea leaves." At a farther corner were two Hufflepuff sixth years, whom Penelope was quite sure were not studying in the slightest. Walking past them, toward the language section, she breathed in the musty air. it was not her favorite smell, yet it was calming. She had always liked the library. Venturing through it was a slight adventure to her, like she was the heroine and Madam Pince the dragon, which was quite cruel since Madam Pince seemed to like her.

A small chuckle broke Penelope from her thoughts, and she glanced towards the source of it - Marcus Flint. Flint was munching on an apple (something Penelope was quite sure Pince wasn't aware of), and flipping through a book called Magical Me. Marcus must have found it quite funny, because every so often he would let out a small chuckle . Penelope had to admit, that for a Slytherin, he was quite cute in that sort of Zetes (rather cute Greek mapmaker with rather, er, large front teeth) adorable way, excluding the whole being able to see until the end of the world thing. Still, he was a Slytherin, and a rude one.

"It's rude to stare," Flint suddenly said, his eyes rising to meet Penelope's. _Maybe he could see until the end of the world_, she thought.

"Oh, sorry," Penelope murmured, flushing. "I was coming to look for that Runes book. I'm sure it's here. Somewhere."

Marcus nodded and returned to his book. Leaving Penelope quite confused; ignoring the boy, she made her way towards the cases of book, which hopefully would hold that for which she was looking.

It took most of an hour for Penelope to search through the books. Strange titles such as Happy Dwarf: The Language of Silliness and Dragonis: The Language of the Fiery, kept trying to bite her. Unfortunately, her search (and bite marks) had been in vain, since she didn't find the right books. Tucking away a copy of Titter: Talking to the Fairies, she turned to address Marcus and demand help, but the Slytherin had already left, leaving only the core of the apple he had eaten.

Upset at not finding anything and noticing the Great Hall was packed with students eagerly waiting breakfast, Penelope decided it would be wiser to come back at a later time. Maybe she could even ask Madam Pince for the location of a book - if it existed.

*~*~*

Percy had been dreaming of a quite peculiar Weasley gathering - Ginny had exchanged her chocolate milk for Bill's beer - when he was roughly awakened. "Mfff," he muttered, waving his arms madly, hitting his attacker in the head.

"Oi," yelped Oliver, "What'd ya do that fo'?" He rubbed his head angrily.

"Sorry, Oliver," Percy apologized, getting up from his bed. "You startled me."

"Come on," Oliver said, "you'll be late for breakfast. Also, I want to see if Clearwater found that book on Elfish runes." He gave Percy a maniacal grin. "I thought we might ditch Flint, and the three of us investigate the Chamber."

Percy shook his head. "No, Oliver. Flint _did_ help us. It wouldn't be fair."

Oliver wrinkled his nose, but quickly nodded. "You're right. We might as well get rid of the Mudblood."

"Oliver!" Percy snapped, as their various roommates gave Oliver loathing looks. Pulling on his robes, Percy yanked Oliver out of the room, down the stairs, out of the common room to the indignant shouts of the Fat Lady, and towards the Great Hall, all the time muttering, "Stupid prejudiced views, you've got, Oliver. Absolutely disgraceful."

Oliver, who had allowed Percy to call him a Quidditch prat, quickly untangled himself from Percy's grip. He headed toward the Ravenclaw table, where Penelope was munching on a buttered piece of toast and reassuring her friend Cheryl that Cheryl's hairspray was not flammable.

"Hullo, Clearwater," Oliver greeted, as he sat across from her, much to Cheryl's delight. "Been to the library lately?"

Penelope, who knew about Oliver's view of mixed-blood wizards, wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I have."

Percy sat next to her and offered her a grin while grabbing a bowl of porridge. "Oi, that's Ravenclaw's food," a fifth-year objected.

Cheryl looked from Percy to Oliver and back to Percy before deciding that she wanted nothing to do with them, and went to flirt with Jacob Kiono, the Head Boy.

"Did you find anything?" Oliver asked, while he reached across the table to grab a handful of Penelope's grapes.

Penelope swatted his hand away and answered, "No. I found a variety of books on languages, but nothing Elfish. I'll go during lunch and maybe ask Madam Pince."

Percy nodded and ate a spoonful of his porridge. When the heat burned his tongue, he spit it out, dismissing Oliver and Penelope's laughs. "Very funny," he growled, downing some pumpkin juice and pushing the porridge aside in favor of a piece of cake. After chewing slowly, he said, "Oliver and I will take a look at a map of Hogwarts. Maybe we can see if the teachers already know about it."

"I can't join you," Oliver said, pouring some iced tea. "I've got Quidditch practice this afternoon. We have a game against Ravenclaw, and we need to win." He looked at Penelope and grinned.

Penelope scowled at him. "You can come with me at lunch to the library," she said to Percy. "All the maps are there, anyway."

"Sure," Percy said, "I'll meet you there."

Penelope agreed, and they all returned to their breakfasts.

"What do you think it will open to?" Oliver asked.

"What?" asked Percy, buttering another bit of biscuit.

"The chamber," whispered Oliver. "Flint read that it led to something. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure," Percy replied, "I mean, it could be nothing, or it could be a secret entrance or something. Maybe we're just hoping for too much." He took a bite of his cake.

Oliver didn't want to believe the Chamber could be nothing, or that the teachers had known about it for years. He strived for adventures, something much grander than Quidditch, and if it was possible that that Chamber led them somewhere else - perhaps another world - he'd be able to set out as an adventurer, and be in the face of danger. Fight dragons, rescue maidens, and be rich - well, maybe that was a little fairy-tale-ish, but he'd still be rich. Then he'd buy top brooms to win the next Quidditch match against Slytherin, and show Flint he was no pouf.

While Oliver was daydreaming ("Gryffindor wins the cup!"), Percy had finished his second breakfast. He pulled out his Herbology book, carefully going over the herbs and flowers used to cure illnesses. Every so often, he'd glance at the Ravenclaw table, sneaking looks at Penelope, who was talking to her friend Kaylin ("Penny, where did you buy that quill?") while serving herself some juice. Then he'd go back to his book, read a few paragraphs, and go back to watching her. She was quite pretty, with her black, curly hair and light brown eyes, and quite smart too. That was always a bonus. Percy cursed himself for being so corny, and continued to read his book, not noticing the way Oliver was smirking at him.

"You fancy her, don't you?" Oliver asked with a cheeky grin.

Percy almost choked on his juice. Trying to not get that famous Weasley blush, he asked, "Fancy whom?"

Oliver pointed towards the Ravenclaw table, precisely at Penelope. "Her," he stated. "I've seen you looking at her."

"No, I don't!" exclaimed Percy defensively.

Oliver nodded, as if understanding. "That's good," he said, munching his toast. "She's a Mudblood."

Everyone that had been sitting close enough to hear him gave a collective gasp. They all stared at him, though some glared.

"_Oliver_," snapped Percy, getting up and pulling him away from the table. "What have I told you about using the word Mudblood in public?"

Oliver followed him out of the Great Hall. "They're Muggle-born, Percy," he mumbled. "They're not worth it."

Percy crossed him arms over his chest and glared at the brown-haired boy. "Oliver, Muggle-borns are wonderful people. You shouldn't be so closed-minded. Next thing we know, you'll be wandering around the halls screaming, 'Anyone that can't fly isn't allowed at Hogwarts!' while wearing the bloody Dark Mark or something. You'd make Salazar Slytherin proud."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "It's just that my aunt told me that if Muggles were allowed to know about magic they'd kill us, or use us for their own good." His voice had started becoming more high-pitched. "Like my mom."

Percy felt sick at Oliver's remark. Oliver's mother had died trying to save Muggles from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Unfortunately, she had died, and her sister had always told Oliver it was those "bleedin' Muggles who killed 'er" and nothing else. Since Oliver's father hardly spent time at home, he had never corrected that fib, and no one was the wiser. Mrs. Weasley had told him that was why Oliver had a strong dislike for Muggles, and why he ignored anyone who tried to correct him. Percy didn't have the courage to tell him the truth, so he just nodded his agreement.

"Come on, then," Oliver said, starting to smile again. "I have a nasty Potions essay to complete."

*~*~*

Marcus had been watching Oliver's outburst, and wondered whom Oliver had called a Mudblood. While the term was well-used, Marcus had at least the brains to not say it at a table full of Gryffindors. _Cretin_, thought Marcus, as Percy dragged Oliver out of the Great Hall. He watched as Penelope looked confusedly at the two boys, ultimately dismissing them and turning back to her friends. Marcus wondered if she had managed to find a book on Elven Runes. No matter, he'd corner her during Herbology class and ask her. In the mean time, he'd ask his grandmother for help. Asking Raquel Louise for parchment and quill, he started scribbling a quick message:

_Dear Grandmother,_

_I have currently been asked to study Elfish Runes. I remember that I once studied a book on that subject at your house, and I wonder if it were possible for you to lend it to me. . I await your prompt answer._

_Yours truly,_

_Marcus F._

He made sure the letter was polite and elegant, for the Flint side of his family expected no less. Marcus folded it carefully and tucked it away in his pocket, reminding himself to visit his owl later that day.

"Who are you writing to?" asked Raquel, forever nosy.

"My grandmother," Marcus answered, returning her quill.

"Why?" Raquel said, flashing him a smile. "Asking for sweets and money?"

"No, Raquel," Marcus answered irritably. "I was just asking for some new mice. Gunther, _your_ brother, got rid of mine."

Raquel, who found mice quite disgusting, looked at Marcus with a look of loathing, and went off to speak of more elegant things.

Marcus grinned finishing his French toast. He reached for his bag under the table, bid farewell to his friends, and went to Herbology aware that Penelope had seen and followed him.

"Why are you following me, Clearwater?" he asked, after they both had passed the portrait of Melody Ear on the second floor.

"I want to talk," Penelope said indignantly, "about last night."

"Shouldn't you be doing this with Weasley instead of me, a Slytherin?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, and leaned against the wall. "I would say Wood, but his Mudblood dislike is well known."

Penelope clutched her bag tighter to her, and looked at Marcus carefully. His hair was messy and his cloak was open, showing off his ironed Slytherin uniform. His arms were crossed against his chest, and he was watching her carefully. "Were you able to understand all of the Elven Runes?" she demanded.

"No," answered Marcus, "I thought I made that clear."

"But you understood more than you told us," Penelope prodded. "What did you read?"

Marcus shook his head, strands of black hair falling to frame his face. "I haven't studied the Elven language in ages, Clearwater. I'm rustier than an iron nail that's been around too long. I'm not sure if I read well. Without the right book my thoughts aren't very useful."

Penelope looked almost as if she were willing to lock him in a classroom and starve him until he told her. "Percy and I are going to the library at lunch. Will you join us?" she asked, deciding words might be better, if less satisfying, than actions.

"Maybe," he said, glancing at his watch, which announced _Two minutes to Herbology_ in his handwriting. Grabbing his bag, which had fallen to the floor, he nodded briefly at her and left.

Penelope just stared after him, confused, until Kaylin and Cheryl came to get her for Charms.

*~*~*

Percy and Oliver, who had been teamed up in Potions, looked curiously at the recipe in front of them. After Rebecca, one of Oliver's "fans," had accidentally dropped her slug juice on it, strange purple blots had appeared making it unreadable.

"It's okay," Oliver assured Percy, who had been complaining about getting low grades. "I remember how to make a Swelling Solution. Sort of."

"That's so reassuring," said Percy sarcastically. "Why don't we see if we can conjure a Draught of the Living Dead while we're at it?"

Oliver, who was busy cutting newt tails, growled at him. Mixing the current mess, he grinned. "Perce, do you have a mirror? A small one?"

Percy's eyebrows shot up curiously, then he said, "No, sorry, Oliver. I must have left it in my _other_ make-up kit. Silly me, forgetting to bring such an important thing to _Potions_ class."

Oliver ignored him and asked Rebecca for her mirror. Setting it on their desk at an angle, he announced to Percy, "Dash of leech juice, two rose roots, sliced fish, and - peculiar, I thought that was only used in Truth Potions - and a bit of moon dust."

Percy looked curiously at him, then at the mirror. Adding the leech juice, he asked, "Who are you copying from?"

"Alexia, that Hufflepuff, you know. She always gets good grades in Snape's class." Seeing Percy roll his eyes, he added, "Anyway, it's not like we're cheating. Our instructions got messed up. We're just finding a suitable copy."

"Rebecca was more than willing to exchange notes," Percy pointed out. "It might have been easier. What if you confuse Alexia's ingredients, or if she gets them wrong?"

"First, Rebecca doesn't do so well in Potions, and second, Alexia won't get them wrong," said Oliver, still staring at the small mirror. "Calm down, Perce."

Percy sighed and continued to add the ingredients into the boiling solution in the cauldron. "Remember," he said, lowering his voice, "in my first year, when I was reading _Hogwarts, A History_ a lot?" Oliver nodded. "I don't remember any talk of chambers with Elfish runes. There was one, though, the Chamber of Secrets. You know, the one built by Salazar Slytherin that's supposed to have a monster or something."

Oliver looked at him curiously. "Do you think we've found the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked excitedly.

Percy shrugged as Snape passed them, looking at their potion menacingly, almost as if expecting it to explode. "It's a possibility," he said, "but we can't be sure. I mean, the Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be a bunch of bollocks anyway. Maybe all we've spotted is Dumbledore's secret stash of lemon sherbets, carefully guarded by long-lost Elven words that only Slytherins and extremely smart Ravenclaws know."

"Prepare to test your potion!" Snape yelled, cutting off Oliver's laughter.

Oliver and Percy paled.

*~*~*

"Thought you might not come," Penelope said, after Percy caught up with her in the library. "My mom always said food was the most important thing to a man."

Percy blushed. "Sorry, bad story involving a Swelling Solution gone wrong. Not very charming, really."

"Oh, I hate messing up in Snape's classes," Penelope said with a grin. "Did you get detention?"

"Surprisingly no. He just told the rest of the class how if they ever messed up like we had, he would take fifty points of their house." Percy ran a hand through his hair and smiled nervously. "I think he was pretty upset."

Penelope grinned and followed him into the library. Once again Madam Pince was cursing some third year that had accidentally set a slimy flobberworm on his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. As it had earlier that morning, the library lacked for students except a few that had forgotten to finish their homework or study for an exam.

"Flint's here," Percy said, nudging her in the ribs.

Penelope, blushing at the contact, looked over to where Percy was pointing. Sitting calmly, eating a Chocolate Frog, was Marcus. He was reading The Odd Biography of Uric the Oddball carefully, turning the page every two minutes or so.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked him.

"I came to help Clearwater with her search," Marcus said without looking up from his book.

Percy looked at Penelope confusingly, but didn't say anything, and went off to look at the maps of Hogwarts.

Marcus let out a chuckle. "What?" Penelope asked, frowning.

"Weasley is jealous," Marcus said, as he started looking over the section where the books on magical races were kept. "Tsk, tsk, imagine that."

"Why should he be jealous?" asked Penelope, sneaking a glance at Percy, who was bent over searching for the right map. "It's not like we're dating or anything." Marcus just grinned and carried on looking through the heavy volumes.

Deciding it might be better to have professional help, Penelope headed over to Madam Pince, who had just finished chastising a careless third year. "Hello, Madam Pince," Penelope greeted warmly.

"Hello, darling," Madam Pince said, wiping flobberworm slime off the Quidditch book. "Looking for something?"

"Oh, yes." Penelope handed her a napkin, which made the librarian beam. "I was wondering if you had a book on Elfish runes."

"I would have to check," Madam Pince, said, running her eyes over a shabby parchment full of names and book titles. "I can send you an owl later today. If we have it, you can stop by." She didn't smile.

"Thank you," said Penelope, doubtfully. She allowed the librarian to get back to her book cleaning and went to join Percy and Marcus, who were staring daggers at each other.

"Madam Pince says she'll check the library for the book, then she'll owl me," Penelope explained.

"The chamber doesn't appear on the map," Percy said, "so I don't think anybody knows about it."

"This just means," Marcus continued, "that all we need is that book, and we're done. Phase one will be complete." He didn't look too happy.

Percy checked his watch and found he had five minutes to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I'm going to be late for class." He rolled up the map and tucked it back into its place. "I'll tell Oliver of this. Penelope, as soon as you get Madam Pince's owl, let us know."

Penelope nodded. _If Madam Pince sent her an owl_, she thought.


	3. Chapter Three

It was later, in Divination, when Percy had a chance to tell Oliver of his visit to the library, and the lack of his findings.

"Until we can decipher the runes, we won't be able to go any further," Percy said, as Trelawney predicted Joanna's future romance. ("A thief of Diagon Alley, I'm afraid to say, m'dear.") He drained Oliver's teacup, and looked at the unreadable figures. "You've got some sort of triton, I think." He looked at his tattered Divination book, a hand-me-down from Charlie. "Apparently, you're going to have a nasty incident with a blood-sucking animal."

Oliver snorted, received a loathing look from the teacher, and looked into Percy's teacup. He turned it around, and even shook it before he said, "Percy, boy, you've got the Grim." Within a second, Professor Trelawney was at their table, snatching the cup from Oliver and peering into it.

"Oh, my," she said after a while. Percy and Oliver exchanged irritated looks. "Apparently, you do have the Grim," continued the Divination teacher, "and a nasty one indeed. It's bigger than any other omen in your cup."

"Other omen?" Rebecca asked, leaning over Oliver.

Trelawney nodded. "Luck, money, love, it's all here. But the Grim is superior." A misty look covered her eyes. Joanna Boot scoffed somewhere from behind Professor Trelawney.

"What does that mean?" asked Rebecca.

"It means that the Fates have yet not decided your path," Trelawney said, staring directly at Percy sadly. "You might die, or you might be the happiest wizard alive." She handed back the cup to Oliver, and addressed Percy again, "Do be careful, my boy. Taking a wrong path might give the Fates the idea of a Grim! When do you have classes again?"

"Friday!" exclaimed Rebecca, now moving over to Percy's side with interest.

"I was thinking of starting on crystal balls," said Trelawney, "but maybe we will continue with tea leaves. Mr. Weasley, you will go first, next class."

"Ignore her, Perce, she's an old bat with no Inner Eye," Oliver said, as he and Percy left the classroom. "Loads of bollocks come out of her mouth. Fates, pfft, honestly."

"I know," Percy said, though he didn't look reassured. "Wasn't she supposed to have had a true premonition some years ago? I heard the sixth-years talking about it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yes, like _ages_ ago, and just one! Do you know what she told Rebecca? 'You'll marry a rich Quidditch player' and she looked at me!"

Percy laughed. "She has to be wrong, then. We all know you'll never be a rich Quidditch player."

Oliver punched him lightly. "Coming to Quidditch practice? Helen is giving your brothers a go."

Percy groaned. "There are many ways to have a rotten afternoon, Oliver, but seeing my brothers play Quidditch is not one of my top choices."

Oliver shrugged. "Hey, your loss." He waited for the rest of their classmates to pass into the Herbology classroom. "I reckon they'll get the position, though. Not many want to be Beaters."

Percy winced slightly as he remembered Alfred Moore, the Beater from last year, who had had a nasty accident and fallen from his broom during the game against the Slytherin. How Flint had laughed!

*~*~*

At four o'clock, Percy allowed Oliver to talk him into watching Gryffindor's Quidditch training session. He had taken various sweets from his Hogsmeade stash. He had been munching on some Ice Mice when Penelope joined him.

"'ello, Percy," she greeted, laying out her Astronomy homework. She gave a quick wave to Helen, who was yelling something at Oliver.

"Hi." Percy moved over to give her space. "Did Madam Pince send you an owl yet? Ice Mice? Chocolate Frog? Acid Pop?"

Penelope shook her head. "No, thank you, and no, I haven't received an owl."

"Wood, you bum!" yelled Helen. "That was an easy one! Don't you dare miss another shot like that, or I'll throw you off the team!"

Penelope chuckled. "Is my sister like that all the time?"

"Well she did accuse me of being a spy for Slytherin once," Percy said earnestly. "And there was that time she tried to whack Oliver with her broom. But I think that was because he called her a Mud - well, you know."

Penelope nodded, and started with her homework. The Gryffindor team had started a game against their reserves. Helen was once again yelling at Oliver, who had been giving tips to the twins.

"The team that loses," yelled Helen, "is in charge of giving all the brooms a good polishing." The majority of the players groaned; polishing brooms was the most boring punishment Helen gave out, excluding jogging around the field.

Oliver was flexing his muscles and eyeing his team suspiciously, almost as if he suspected they would lose in order to make him polish brooms. Fred was to play for Helen's team, while George would be playing on Oliver's.

Percy watched, amazed, as the game started. He had always thought it was pure grace to be able to fly so quickly and so easily through the air. He had never tried out for the team, despite the fact Oliver said he would make a good Chaser. It might have been a big hit in his family if he earned a position on the team, his family being huge Quidditch fans and all, but it really wasn't that big a deal to him. Sure, he loved to watch it, but playing was different. By the look of things, Fred and George were doing very well and would probably earn the Beater positions.

Percy's gaze moved to Helen. She was well known throughout the school, and was considered one of the best Quidditch players. Rumor had it that she might earn herself a position with Holyhead Harpies, if not with England's national team. Oliver was positively envious. Helen was Head Girl and top in most of her classes, excepting Herbology and Transfiguration. Though not perfect in the looks department, she wasn't ugly, and she did have her fair share of admirers. However, her heart was set on her current boyfriend, Richard Jones.

Then, of course, there was Oliver, who had played Keeper since his second year. If there was one thing Oliver could do, it was fly. No matter how many games or practices Percy attended it still amazed him how Oliver seemed to be able to keep his eyes on every Chaser of the opposite team and still shout supportive comments to his teammates. While Helen loved the game, Oliver's love was closer to obsession.

"Game!" yelled Helen, breaking Percy from his thoughts. Oliver's team had won, and they were yelling happily to one another.

Oliver grinned, did a flip on his broom, and quickly landed next to his teammates. The Weasley twins turned out to be spectacular Beaters, and Helen was already welcoming them to the team.

"We won, we won!" cried George, looking pleased.

"Weasley luck," added Fred, with a wink.

Helen didn't look too pleased about having to polish brooms, but she smiled nonetheless. "Excellent Hells," Heather, one of the Chasers, exclaimed. "Party at the common room!"

"Good game, Oliver," Percy said, approaching the players. "You're an amazing Keeper. Reckon you'll be captain next year."

"Thanks," Oliver said happily. "Come on, I'm freezing." He looked back at Helen, and said, "Well done! I bet we'll win the cup this year!"

Helen smiled at him and allowed Penelope to tug her off to the castle. "Absolutely stunning!" the younger girl exclaimed, with a secretive look at Percy and Oliver.

"I doubt you'd ever win the Quidditch cup, Wood," a cold voice laughed.

Neither Percy nor Oliver needed to turn around to know who it was. The voice could belong to no one but Marcus Flint.

"Ignore him," Percy whispered, looking up at the sky. "Just. Bloody. Ignore. Him."

Oliver clutched his broom tighter, and started walking towards the school.

"Ignoring me now, Wood?" Marcus called out. "Or have you just gone thick?"

Oliver turned around suddenly, and Percy let out a groan. "What did you call me?" Oliver's voice was laced with poison.

"Not quite sure," Marcus said, pretending to think. "Thick, I believe."

Most of the Quidditch team had returned to the warmth of the castle, but a few like Heather and the twins were watching Marcus and Oliver with eagerness.

"What the bloody hell do you want, Flint?" Oliver asked.

"Let's go back to the castle," Percy whispered, tugging on Oliver's arm, but the taller boy wouldn't budge.

"Scared of me too, Weasley?" Marcus asked, his eyes shining mischievously. Percy couldn't help but feel he was up to something.

"Our brother isn't afraid of you!" Fred said suddenly.

"Yeah!" agreed George. "He could hex you into next year, Flint."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Weasel Wood - the new meal for rodents," he said, as if he were announcing a new meal. "Available at pet stores near you. A Galleon a pound. Would that be enough to buy you something, Weasley? I hear you live on scraps and hand-me-downs. Is that why your house is such a wreck?"

Suddenly Oliver threw himself at Marcus, knocking the other boy onto the ground in a blur of fists, kicks, and insults. The twins cheered for Oliver. Heather begged them to stop in fear of losing House points, and Percy watched. A rage had passed through him when Marcus had insulted his home and family, and it wasn't something uncommon. Every time someone bothered him about it, he felt like beating that person into a pulp. At the same time, it renewed the promise he had made to himself to graduate into a well-paying job. Money seemed to be everything right now. With money one could have power, respect, and a lot more.

Oliver, on the other hand, wasn't having a good time. Marcus had hit his leg, and it was hurting like hell. He was about to hit Marcus back, when he noticed that, apart from the struggling, Marcus was chuckling softly. "What. Is. So. Funny?" demanded Oliver, through clenched teeth, making sure to hit Marcus good in the stomach.

Marcus gasped for breath before saying, "That librarian gave me a letter to give to Clearwater. Apparently thought I had become close friends with that little Ravenclaw. I thought it might be -" He was cut of, as Oliver slammed him once more to the ground. The Gryffindor glared at him before stalking off towards the castle. Heather followed, clucking like a mother hen. Percy and the twins looked curiously before heading back themselves.

"Weasley," Marcus said, spitting blood onto the grass.

All three of the redheads turned to him. "What?" they asked in unison.

"I meant you," Marcus said, signaling to Percy.

"Go back to the common room," Percy told Fred and George. "I'll be there in a minute." His brothers looked doubtful, but headed on without him.

"What do you want?" Percy asked, his tone cold.

Marcus fished a yellow piece of parchment from inside his robes. "Wood left without this. It's for Clearwater. Idiot. Now I got beat up for nothing.

Percy looked at him, incredulous, without taking the letter. "That - that's why you picked a fight with Oliver?" he demanded. "Just to give him a bloody letter?"

Marcus shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? Give it to him where everyone can see? Sorry, but I can't put myself on the line for some letter."

Percy took the letter, and inspected it carefully. A loopy, elegant handwriting said 'Penelope Clearwater' on the front. He didn't know who it was from, and he really didn't want to ask Marcus, so he just nodded. "I'll give it to her."

"It's from Madam Pince," Marcus said, answering the unasked question. "If it helps us with the secret chamber, I want to know."

Percy stared stiffly at the bloody grass. "After this _technique_ of yours, I'm not sure about it." He looked up again. "You know, Oliver doesn't want your help, and right now I'm not quite sure I want it, either."

"Clearwater does," Marcus said, "and I'm the one with the most Elfish knowledge, and --"

"But it hasn't helped," Percy interrupted. "We still need a book."

"I've asked for one," Marcus explained, his eyes falling suddenly on the Forbidden Forest. "I can't talk about this here."

"Why not?" Percy's face hardened, but he followed Marcus's line of vision into the forest.

Marcus opened his mouth as though to say something, but closed it. "I can't. Is there any place we can talk privately?"

Percy racked his brain. Broom closet. Empty classrooms. Great Hall. Greenhouse. Quidditch field. None seemed private enough for a conversation.

"This weekend, there's a trip to Hogsmeade. If we head on to the cliffs, there should be some privacy, but it may not be enough." The trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled for Friday afternoon, and today was Wednesday. Percy knew it'd be a long wait, but it was the only secure place for an important conversation.

Marcus seemed to agree, because he nodded. "We'll meet at the end of the road near Zonko's at five, then." He made to get up, when Percy reached out his hand to help him. Marcus looked confused, but accepted the help. He gave a mock bow, and walked past Percy.

*~*~*

Despite the ache in his stomach and the pain in his leg, Marcus didn't go to the infirmary or to the Slytherin common room. He headed to the more isolated side of the castle. He needed to think. He needed a rest from the Slytherins. He needed _privacy_. He shouldn't have looked for a fight with Oliver like that; it had been stupid. If the Slytherins had seen the fight, he would hear about it soon. Fighting Oliver wasn't something he could help. It had been going on ever since they had stepped into Hogwarts.

_"Hi," a brown-haired boy said, as Marcus looked sheepishly at his broom. "I'm Oliver Wood."_

_"Marcus Flint," Marcus said politely. "Do you know how to fly?"_

_Oliver shook his head. "No, my dad never taught me. I'm going to practice this year, so I can join the team next year!"_

_Marcus grinned. "I don't know how to fly either. It wasn't proper etiquette at my house." He looked as Madam Hooch showed them how to grab the broom securely. "I think I'd make a good Chaser."_

_"Maybe we could learn together," suggested Oliver, with a smile. _

_There they were_, Marcus mused, _at only eleven_. _Carefree, innocent, life wasn't any better_. Oliver had been his best friend. They did everything together; both oblivious to the competitive inter-house relationship between Slytherin and Gryffindor. They loved Quidditch more than anything in the world. It was the topic they both knew better than anything else. It something they actually loved. To both of them no Quidditch was the end of the world. Then, their perfect worlds fell apart.

_"Oi, Flint, what you doing with that Gryffin-jerk?" asked Julian Pucey, a fourth-year. _

_Marcus walked over to Pucey, Oliver looking curiously from behind. "This is my friend Oliver," Marcus said. _

_Julian looked the scrawny boy up and down with distaste. "Flint, he's a Gryffindor!"_

_"Yes, so?"_

_"We're Slytherins, we don't associate with Gryffindor scum."_

_Oliver and Marcus exchanged puzzled glances. "Why not?" asked Oliver, hurt._

_"Because Slytherins aren't worth the gum on your shoe," a new voice, Kurt Oscure, said. He glared at Julian and Marcus. "Come on, Oliver. You shouldn't be with them; they're bad luck."_

_Oliver looked sharply at the Slytherins. "I wasn't associating with them," he said sternly. Marcus's jaw dropped. "I was telling them to sod off." Kurt grinned, and patted his shoulder. _

_Marcus watched them leave as Julian muttered something about being really low._

Marcus sighed, and continued on his way. The next day, he had punched Oliver for the first time. He wasn't really sure why. It may have been in anger, or a thirst to prove himself to the Slytherins, but he had long since forgotten.. In any event, they were sworn enemies. He could never forgive Oliver for being so - so absolutely... well, there was no word to describe him. _It's your own bloody fault_, Marcus told himself, _for associating with a Gryffindor_.

Finally, he reached his destination. Marcus glanced at the not-really-blank wall. He knew the secrets it held, the adventure within it. He stepped through the false image and passed into the chamber. The torches still flickered, and the writing was still there. He was hoping that he would somehow magically remember the lessons his nannies had given him about the Elfish tongue.

"The Flint blood, my dear boy, has always been friendly with _pure_ elves. Its language is not to be forgotten," his father would say. Marcus had done what his family wished he wouldn't; he had forgotten the Elfish tongue. _Oh, bloody hell_.

Then, of course, that led to something Marcus had always wondered. Did he have Elfish blood in him? He's parents had never answered that for him, always evading the question apparently. "Do hush up, Marcus," his mother would say. "Don't you have anything to read?"

The worse time was during family holidays. Everyone in the Flint family would come for dinner. Speaking Elfish was a must, especially with his grandparents. Even the Flint family rules were based on those of the elves.

*~*~*

Helen and Penelope both sat at the Ravenclaw table, talking about the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. "Richard is absolutely divine, Penny!" Helen cooed. "He says we should get married after we graduate. Imagine!"

Penelope wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. "Married? Don't you think you're a bit young, Hel?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," Helen said doubtfully. "Maybe we won't get married right after we graduate. Perhaps a couple of years later."

"Wizards live longer than normal people," Penelope pointed out. "I don't see what the rush is."

"There's no rush, love," Richard interrupted, sitting next to Helen. "We don't have to get married until we're fifty, if you like." He kissed Helen on the cheek. "Though your parents might appreciate if it were a bit earlier."

"Yes, well, no one has said we're getting married," said Helen huffily. "Penelope, I think Percy Weasley is signaling to you."

Penelope looked over to the Gryffindor table, where indeed Percy was trying to get her attention. He seemed relieved when she noticed, and beckoned her to sit next to him. "If you'll excuse me," Penelope said, taking her plate with her.

"Looks like your sister's got a boyfriend," whispered Richard.

*~*~*

"Hullo," Penelope greeted, as she sat next to Percy.

Percy grinned. "Sorry 'bout that. Madam Pince sent you a letter." He handed the parchment to her. "Better read it quick. I'm to report to Flint."

Penelope arched an eyebrow curiously, but didn't ask anything. Instead, she read the letter to him:

_Ms. Clearwater,_

_The book you requested is not in our possession at the moment. It is checked out. We are expecting it back during the first week of January, so if you still need it, do come then._

_Irma Pince_

_Librarian_

"Oh, bugger," Percy said. "Looks like we'll have to try another technique."

Penelope was not happy, either. "We could try sneaking into the Restricted Section," she said, "and see if there's something that can help us."

Percy looked appalled. "I am _not_ sneaking into the Restricted Section! That's against Hogwarts rules! If they catch us, we'll be expelled."

He might have said more on the subject, but Fred and George appeared. "Percy, have you seen Angelina?" Fred asked innocently.

"No."

"How about Alicia, or Katie?" George said.

"What did you do to them?" Percy asked.

The twins pretended to look hurt. "Us?" Fred said.

"Why would you ever think we'd do something to them?" George added.

"Unless you mean how Angelina got wet."

"But we had nothing to do with it."

"Although we did throw a water balloon at her."

"That was entirely Lee's fault though."

"Yes, he moved when we were aiming at him."

Percy gave an exasperated sigh. "You two are trouble."

Fred and George grinned. "You don't have to flatter us, Perce," said George.

"We already know that," explained Fred, and they both went off to look for the girls.


	4. Chapter Four

It was early Friday morning when Professor Flitwick announced to the Ravenclaws that classes had been cancelled. Penelope and her friends were thrilled, and had gathered in the common room to chat. One of the prefects brought strawberry tarts and butterbeer from the kitchens. Kaylin, Penelope's best friend, had gotten the latest issue of _Muggle Boys vs. Wizards_, and a bunch of girls had gathered around her.

"Tell me this bloke isn't gorgeous," Kaylin said to Penelope. "Brad Pitt, what a hot name!"

"I like him better," Penelope said, pointing at the picture of a boy about eighteen years old. "He looks a lot like Oliver Wood."

"Sean Biggerstaff? I don't think so," argued Veronica Blanchard, who had fancied Oliver for quite some time. "Wood isn't that skinny."

"Move to the wizard photos, Penny," Kaylin said. "I want to see if Gilderoy Lockhart is there!"

"Honestly, what a bunch of bollocks," said Liz Mayton, a small brunette whom Penelope only knew because they shared the same room. She was reading a small, thick, black book. "Lockhart couldn't smile his way out of a paper bag. I'm surprised Lucius Malfoy isn't number one on that list. I melt every time he comes to the board meetings."

"Malfoy?" Kaylin asked, disgusted. "But he's so _old_!"

"He is not," Liz said snippily. "He's only five years older than Professor Snape, and we know how much you fancy Professor Snape, Kaylin."

Penelope cleared her throat. "What are you reading, Liz?" she asked in hopes to change the conversation.

"The Hobbit," she answered, glaring a bit at Kaylin. "It's by J.R.R. Tolkien. You know the ex-Minister of Magic."

"I hear it's a fabulous book," Veronica added, eyeing Sean Biggerstaff's picture hungrily.

Penelope examined the book; it had a funny picture of a red dragon on the front, and runes underneath it. "Are those Elfish runes?" she asked curiously.

Liz looked surprised. "No, actually they're Dwarfish runes." She handed the book to Penelope for a closer look. "Tolkien contributed two books to the Ministry: Corks and Swords: The Writing of Dwarves, and Legolas's Runes: Magical Runes of the Elves."

"Legolas? Isn't that one of the characters of his books?" Candy asked. Penelope's hearing, however, had stopped as soon as Liz had said, "_Magical Runes of the Elves_."

"Where would I find Tolkien's books?" Penelope asked.

"Flourish and Blott's should have copies," Liz replied. "Maybe even the library here. He's quite famous, you know." She took back her book. "Though the copies he contributed to the Ministry you won't be able to get."

"What? Why not?" Penelope asked, trying not to look disappointed.

"There is only one extra copy of each book. The original versions are safely guarded by the Ministry, and the copies are somewhere in the Muggle world, I reckon."

Penelope was not happy at all.

*~*~*

"I don't think we should go meet Flint," Oliver said, as he and Percy prepared for the trip to Hogsmeade. "He'll probably ambush us, take our underwear, and leave us freezing our privates off." Percy gave him a strange look. "It happened to a cousin of mine, don't laugh."

"I'm going," Percy said, pulling on his boots. "You can stay at The Three Broomsticks, and wait for me." He shook his head, and reached for a pair of Wellingtons instead.

"And leave you alone? Never!" Oliver exclaimed, reaching for his cloak. "Is Clearwater joining us?"

"You shouldn't call her Clearwater. She doesn't call you Wood, does she?" Percy said, giving himself a quick glance in the mirror ("You look marvellous, dear."). He winked at it, and addressed Oliver. "Penelope said she'd meet us at Honeydukes."

Oliver picked up an oddly-shaped wrapped parcel from his bed. "Someone sent me this," he commented casually, "but I'm not quite sure who."

Absentmindedly, Percy reached for his jumper (maroon with a golden P on it). "Really? No note or anything?" He threw the jumper back into his trunk, choosing instead a plain gray one. "A letter from one of your many admirers?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Oliver frowned. "They _don't_ send me gifts; they just stalk me in the hallways." He looked up and down at Percy's clothes. "You're one to talk, anyway. Getting dressed up for a date you haven't mentioned?"

Percy felt the famous Weasley blush creep to the tips of his ears. "It's not a crime to look nice," he snapped. "Come on, we're going to be late."

Oliver snickered and followed him out of their dormitory. "You know, I heard Alisa Kings, that porn witch, made the top ten models of Feisty Witch."

*~*~*

Hogsmeade was full of Hogwarts students when Percy and Oliver passed by The Three Broomsticks. Most of them were couples more interested in snogging than enjoying the town. The others were small groups of friends daring each other to go up to the Shrieking Shack.

"I heard it used to be a sort of small house for Godric Gryffindor's wives," Percy said, nodding his head at the abandoned house. "Protected with only a password he knew." They stopped and stared as two Hufflepuffs pushed their friend up the slope. "Older villagers say the ghosts are really the women Gryffindor treated badly," added Percy, as they continued to Honeydukes.

"Gryffindor had all the fun," a new voice sneered. Marcus was leaning against the wall of the Post Office. He was draped in loose navy robes and looked like he had swallowed a glassful of dragon drool.

"Thought you were going to meet us at Zonko's," Percy said.

"I was, but I ran into Clearwater," said Marcus as Penelope came out of the Post Office, holding a parcel and a letter.

Percy's first thought was that she looked a lot like that model (Alison Burquette? Was that the witch that did the Chocolate Frog ads? Oh, well, someone like that.) in Bill's Feisty Witch magazines. Which he had looked at by mistake. He had thought they were copies of Charlie's Dragons and How Not to Get Eaten. While usually full of bollocks, Charlie's magazines did have _some_ good facts. Percy cleared his thoughts quickly as Penelope gave him a small smile.

"This is for you," she said to Marcus, handing him the letter. "The owl flew in just as I was leaving. Lucky your name was written in gold ink. I wouldn't have noticed it otherwise."

Marcus took it, and started walking to the more private paths of Hogsmeade.

"Most people say hi, you know," Oliver said, prodding Marcus with his finger, "but you just stand and glare. How you got voted 'Most Attractive Slytherin' is beyond me." He grinned evilly. "Especially with those teeth."

Marcus flushed and scowled at him. Percy cleared his throat uncomfortably. Penelope glanced at her watch. They had arrived at an isolated path. Their quest had barely begun, and already Oliver and Marcus were ready to fight.

"We're not here to argue," reminded Percy, putting on the face that would serve him well when he became a prefect (which had taken many hours in front of a rather negative mirror to perfect). "Flint, were you supposed to tell us something?"

Marcus shot a scathing look at Oliver. "I asked my grandmother to send me her copy of Elfish Runes, and here is her letter. So if you would keep Wood on a leash, I'll be thrilled to read it to you."

"Ha, ha," said Oliver sarcastically. "We should set you on a bloody leash! If we didn't, you'd probably back-stab us, you two-timing dog."

"Boys!" warned Penelope. "Let's get to the point." She opened her parcel, and gave a squeal when she spotted the candy and books.

Percy looked at the books, interested, while Marcus read his letter to the three of them:

_My dear Marcus,_

_As disappointed I am to hear that you need my book to help you with your Elfish Runes (something you should have known since you were six!), I am sorry to say the book is no longer in my possession. I donated it long ago to your school. I suggest you ask that charming librarian of yours for it._

_I expect you at Christmas, _

_Your Grandmother_

"Your family knows the Elfish language?" asked Penelope, as Oliver said, "Madam Pince, a charming librarian?"

"The Flint bloodline has long been connected with the great rulers of the Elfish," Marcus said indignantly. "A Flint should always know how to speak and write Elfish. Quoth my Elfish great-grandfather Julius."

Oliver snickered. "Who volunteers to ask our 'charming librarian' for the book?"

"That must be the book that's already checked out," Penelope said, shaking her head. "Has anyone heard of J.R.R. Tolkien?"

Immediately the three boys turned to look at her. "Of course!" exclaimed Percy. "Only the best writer in the whole history of magic."

"Great lover of Quidditch, too. Dedicated the 'Tolkien Field' to his wife," added Oliver. "Bless him."

"Only your kind wouldn't know about Tolkien, Clearwater," Marcus said. "I suggest you pick up a good history book sometime. Thought you Ravenclaws spent all your free time with your noses in books."

"We do not," Penelope said defensively. "Then _your kind_, Marcus Flint, surely must have heard of Legolas's Runes: Magical Runes of the Elves." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"Doesn't ring a bell," said Oliver. The other two boys agreed with him.

"Figures," Penelope thought huffily. "It's a book by Tolkien on Elfish Runes," she announced to the boys. "Liz Mayton told me so. Unfortunately for us, one copy is in the Ministry's hands, and the other one lost in the Muggle world."

Oliver mumbled something that sounded like "sodding Muggles."

"I'll ask my family if they have a book on Elfish Runes," Percy said, trying to drone out Oliver's rants. "My dad has a lot of stuff stashed in the attic."

Marcus was about to make a comment about Percy's family, but he really couldn't come up with something that would actually _hurt_.

"I'm going home for Christmas next week," Penelope said, looking upset. "Won't be of much use then."

"You're not of much use now, Clearwater," Marcus remarked, earning a glare from Percy. "I'm also heading home. I might be able to sneak a book off my uncles." He raised an eyebrow at Percy and Oliver. "How about you two? Staying or leaving?"

"Leaving," answered Percy. "Bill and Charlie will be coming home for Christmas."

"Not quite sure," said Oliver glumly. "Depends whether or not my dad is coming home."

Percy patted Oliver's shoulder comfortingly. He knew how Oliver's aunt preferred him staying at Hogwarts while Mr. Wood was off in the United States on business. "You can come to the Burrow if you like," he offered. "You know Mum has a soft spot for you. Plus, you can meet Charlie."

Oliver's eyes glazed over as if Percy had just announced he had been accepted to England's Quidditch team. "Thanks, Perce, I'll owl and ask."

"As mushy as the moment is getting," interrupted Marcus, "I need to get back to my friends." He picked a lollipop from Penelope's parcel. "Inform me if anything comes up," he called over his shoulder, as he walked back toward The Three Broomsticks.

"What book did you get?" asked Percy, sitting next to Penelope on a bench outside the tavern.

Penelope smiled radiantly. "It's a collection of Greek myths and legends," she explained, taking it out of the parcel.

Oliver rolled his eyes and decided going to Hog's Head would be more interesting than watching these two beat around the bush. Muttering a quick goodbye to both of them, he started down the path humming a Quidditch song. "And we'll root root root for the See-" Oliver stopped as he noticed Marcus enter Hog's Head with Raquel Loise, who was whispering something in his ear. Oliver knew Hogwarts preferred that the students didn't go to Hog's Head, it not being very warm to children, but he had always loved their butterbeer. Seeing Marcus Flint go inside, though, was something quite unexpected. Oliver wrapped his cloak tighter against his body, and followed the couple.

*~*~*

Hog's Head was full of fourth-year Slytherins. Raquel and Marcus gathered chairs near the table by the fireplace. Gareth, Raquel's brother, had gotten his hands on some Kork's Ever Alcoholic Ice Mice, and most of the Slytherins were already tipsy.

"Issh thisssh good or what?" Trenton Avery, Marcus' roommate, said, grinning.

Raquel smiled and tapped her turquoise fingernails against her glass. "Trenton, you idiot, if Snape finds out you're wasted..." She was cut off as Marcus laughed.

"Live a li'l, Raquel," he said. "We've gotten passs Shnape before." Trenton grinned, high-fiving the other boys at the table.

"I'm pretty sure Snape knows we come here, anyway," added Madeleyne Tinar. She popped another Alcoholic Ice Mouse into her mouth, not quite drunk yet. "I heard he caught two prefects once coming back drunk. Apparently, he just warned them not to appear like that to breakfast."

Marcus took a quick sip of his drink. No one was quite sure what it was, but it was yellow with a green Slytherin umbrella. "One wonders if Snape even watches over us, like Heads of House are suppose to do." He took another sip. "I'd bet he doesn't give a damn if the women end up pregnant and the men drunk."

"Yes, well, I'd rather not be pregnant," Raquel said, as the others exchanged curious glances. "Speaking of which, have you all heard the rumours?"

"Which ones?" Madeleyne asked with a laugh. "If you mean the one about Clearwater and Jones eloping before Christmas, I've heard it."

"No, I mean the one -" Raquel glanced around the pub uncomfortably. "The one about Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts next year."

"Harry Potter?" Gunther asked, raising his voice a little.

"I thought he was dead," Trenton said, dislike in his voice. "Something about being dropped after his parents were found dead."

"Where did you hear this?" Marcus asked Raquel.

"I overheard McGonagall. She was saying 'Heavens! Potter's already ten? He'll be here next year. Gryffindor, I reckon.' I mean, how many Potters can there be?" Raquel glanced at her friends.

"Gryffindor?" said Marcus, looking doubtful. "I mean he was just a baby when he brought down You-Know-Who. It sounds like Slytherin to me."

"My family won't be too happy if he does end up in Slytherin," Madeleyne said, signalling for another round of drinks. "His name is always being cursed by my father."

"Bugger them," Trenton said. "Imagine us working along the famous Harry Potter. It'd be a win up to power."

"I'm not playing servant to any bratty eleven-year-old," snapped Marcus.

"I wonder where he has been staying all this time," wondered Raquel. "Perhaps with some long-distance family?"

"Maybe he'll go into Durmstrang, instead," Gunther said. "I mean if he's really a dark wizard, I hear that's the place to learn dark arts and stuff."

"They're all a bunch of Death Eater wannabes," Marcus and Trenton said simultaneously.

"Gentlemen," Madeleyne said softly. "It seems we've got a Gryffindor spy." She inclined her head towards a table in the shadows. Marcus recognized Oliver's brown hair.

"Gryffindor git," Gunther muttered. "I thought good boys stayed at The Three Broomsticks."

"Wood's no good boy. Especially not in a broom closet," Raquel said under her breath, receiving curious stares from Madeleyne and Marcus.

"One of us could just throw him out," Trenton said, though his statement was directed at Marcus.

Marcus scowled. "I'm not your hit man, Avery. Go do it yourself."

"Really, I heard you were quite smitten with Wood, Flint. Maybe you could go flatter him back to Hogwarts?"

"Smitten will not be a word you'll use when I'm done with you!"

"Try it. Don't be an idiot. We all know you can't tell the difference between a wand and a quill."

"Boys!" Raquel snapped. "Would you two please stop your bickering? If it's any help, Wood just left."

Marcus and Trenton scowled at each other. Raquel sighed. This would be a long evening.

*~*~*

Percy was delighted to see that Errol was waiting for him when he arrived at Hogwarts. Attached to Errol's leg was a small box containing fudge, and a pink letter, which he assumed was from Ginny. It ranted on about how Ron had somehow turned her beautiful hair into a dreadful shade of lime green with their dad's wand. A few sentences said how Mum missed him, and Dad was busy with work. Percy found the postscript, in Ron's handwriting, quite amusing, something about there being an attack of spiders in his room.

The door opened, causing Percy to turn around, surprised.

"Hola!" Oliver said, jumping onto his bed, and rummaging underneath it. "How was your date with Clearwater?"

"It wasn't a date!" hissed Percy, blushing again. "What have you got there?"

"Feisty Witch!" exclaimed Thomas Perry, one of their roommates. "Is that the latest copy, Oliver?"

"Who's got Feisty Witch?" asked Timothy, Thomas's twin brother.

"Oh, wow," exclaimed Thomas, as he scanned through the pages. "This _is_ the latest copy!"

"Oliver, put that away," Percy said. "It goes against school regulations. What if McGonagall catches you with it?"

"It's not like she's going to barge into our room, Perce," Oliver said, pulling out some sweets as well. "Come and look at this month's Ms Feisty!"

"I'd really rather not."

"Always figured you were a pouf, Perce," Timothy said. "Don't worry, we won't hold it against you."

"I am not gay!" Percy said indignantly.

"It doesn't matter if you are," Timothy went on. "Our sis could get you an issue of Large Wizard if you like."

"Oliver, would you please tell them I'm not gay," Percy pleaded.

"He's not," Oliver said, his eyes not leaving the magazine. "He just likes Clearwater, so he doesn't want to compromise to other, er, ladies."

"Clearwater?" Thomas asked, looking surprised.

"Which one?" added Timothy. "Helen is really nice. A bit bossy, though. And she is _Head Girl_." He winked at Percy.

"She's taken, though," Thomas reminded them. "You know, that Ravenclaw chap."

"I do not like Helen," Percy stammered.

"Ah, so it's the younger one," said Timothy, with a wide grin. "Penelope seems like a sweet darling. Typical Ravenclaw, though, nose always in a book."

"Oh, leave the poor bloke alone," Oliver said, looking at Percy. "He can fancy whoever he likes." He tossed the magazine to Thomas. "Even if it means he doesn't appreciate the fine bodies of many, many lovely witches."

Timothy patted Percy firmly on the back. "Don't worry, mate, you'll hook up with Penelope eventually."

Percy sighed. They would never forget this.

*~*~*

_Dear Oliver,_

_I arrived home from Austria this weekend. Your aunt and I have decided to have Christmas here at the house. I can't wait for you to join us! I have many tales to tell you, plus I've brought some gifts. _

_Say hello to the Weasleys._

_Dad_

Every single letter Oliver ever received from his family was very short, usually no longer than three sentences. If they were from his aunt, only a few words would decorate the parchment. "How are you?" and "Behave" were her greetings of choice. His father, on the other hand, usually expressed the point of the mail, elaborated a bit on his recent trip, and always had a brief salutation to Percy and his family. His father loved Percy. "That boy will go places," was what he always said. Oliver agreed with his father. Percy would go places. Percy would work for the Ministry, perhaps even one day become Minister of Magic. Percy was brilliant. Studious, smart, followed the rules, girls loved him. Oliver suspected that was the reason they were good friends; they were nothing alike. While Oliver enjoyed the outdoors, a good broom, and flying, Percy preferred the library, his homework, and a copy of One Thousand Rules of Hogwarts: The Guide to Becoming Head Boy. They were like water and oil, but they got along just fine. Or at least since their second year, they did.

Oliver remembered how their friendship had started. Potions, Percy's worst subject, was held in one of the coldest dungeons. They were researching a bone-eliminating punch, used mostly in the Dark Arts. A gruesome potion, once taken it broke bones until the one who took it just became some sort of rubber body. If one took too much of the potion, it was possible for the victim to die. The same effect could be achieved with a spell, but the potion was more effective. It could be fixed with a simple medical potion, but one ingredient, barley root, was extremely difficult to find since it has to be plucked during a full moon after a light drizzle. Percy had been teamed up with Rebecca, who was a klutz in Snape's class. Oliver, who much to his dislike had been partnered with Joanna, was the only one to notice when Rebecca accidentally dropped the whole vial of bone-eliminating punch onto Percy's leg. Percy let out a shriek, and stood so fast his cauldron tipped over. Rebecca, who had started to panic, started screaming for Snape.

"Back away, girl," Snape told Rebecca hastily, waving his wand at Percy and muttering something. "Wood! Take Weasley to the infirmary!"

Oliver couldn't move. He stood, shocked, with the rest of the class. Boils had started spreading across Percy's leg. Tears were sliding down his face, and he looked ready to faint. Something told Oliver the potion was quick.

"Hurry!" Snape said. "Tell Madam Pomfrey I'll be there in a minute." Oliver helped Percy out of the classroom. "As for you, Ms. Clark, fifty points from Gryffindor, and you will stay to clean up this mess," Snape roared at Rebecca, who had also started to cry.

Percy to the infirmary was difficult. Whatever spell Snape had used was starting to wear off, and Percy's bones were slowly breaking away again. It was almost impossible to drag him up the stairs. When they had finally reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey set Percy on the table ("Whatever could Severus have been thinking. Using such potions on second-years!"), used a variety of freezing and stopping spells on him, and called both Snape and Dumbledore.

She had been quite frantic when she announced, "Mr. Weasley had lost half of his leg bones, and the potion is making its way towards the upper part of his body." Both men nodded solemnly. Oliver strained to hear them, while Percy, exhausted, was sleeping. "We need to fully stop the potion before I can give him something to grow back the bones."

"Don't you have anything, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked. "Surely there's some antidote around here."

"We have never needed an antidote!" Pomfrey shrieked slightly. "I feel terrible for not being stocked for anything."

"Can't you make something, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape nodded. "Yes, but I'll need those Barley roots. You know they must be fresh."

"Full moon is in a week's time," Pomfrey said, glancing briefly at her calendar. "Will Weasley be all right until then?"

"He'll need a freezing spell every hour or so," Snape said. "Nothing will happen to the boy, if you keep him on freezing spells. The only way to die is if his spinal cords dissolve, then his organs will be in trouble. I could ask Sybil Trelawney if she has the roots. I doubt it, though."

"Go now," Dumbledore ordered. He waited until Snape left before saying, "I shall ask the Potions teacher at Durmstrang if they have the antidote. I will also have to inform Arthur and Molly of this." He looked uncomfortably at Percy's limp form before noticing Oliver's presence. "Mr. Wood! I was not aware you were here."

Oliver blushed. "Sorry, Headmaster," he muttered, "but I wanted to make sure Percy was all right. He won't die, will he?"

"No, he will not," Pomfrey said huffily. "Now, I suggest you leave. Mr. Weasley needs his rest."

Dumbledore smiled. "Poppy, I'm sure Mr. Wood will be happy to help you use freezing charms on Mr. Weasley." He waited for Oliver to nod, which he did. "You do know how to perform one?"

"Yes, Professor," Oliver said.

"Very well. After classes you should stop by. Mr. Weasley will enjoy the company."

After lessons, Oliver came to visit Percy. They noticed that despite their different lifestyles at Hogwarts, they both had things in common, like their curiosity and love of adventure. Snape successfully found the roots by the end of the first week and spent most mornings and nights preparing the potion. By the second week, Percy's left arm and the both legs had become rubbery blobs. Madam Pomfrey was afraid the bones in his face would also break, causing him to have no skull to hold his brain. It might even be deadly. The third week, Snape finished the potion. Oliver and Percy were thrilled. After a night's rest, Madam Pomfrey gave him something ghastly to re-grow his bones.

From then on, Oliver and Percy were best friends. They got on each other's nerves every so often, but it seemed more like a game to them.

Oliver's attention drifted back to his father's letter. He would be spending Christmas at his house. That was something unexpected. Most Christmases his father was travelling somewhere like Venezuela or Australia. Oliver loved his aunt, but she drank a bit too much for his liking. This Christmas would be different. He would have fun, his dad would play Quidditch with him, and his aunt would make her delicious pumpkin pie.

Oliver, however, was not a very positive person, at least not when it came to his family. If the coin fell on tails, the part he dreaded, he could always spend his holidays at the Weasleys'.


	5. Chapter Five

There was an hour before the students spending Christmas away from school had to leave for the Hogwarts Express. Gathered in one of the secluded spots of the Gryffindor common room were Oliver and Percy, clad in layers of warm clothes, playing chess. Someone, most likely the house-elves, had started a cosy fire. Rebecca's group of girls, and a few boys, had gathered around for a heated game of Exploding Snap. Someone had got a radio to play Christmas tunes. The twins, Timothy and Thomas, had, according to Oliver, snuck out to meet their Hufflepuff girlfriends, though Oliver was quite sure they had actually gone to show the girls the beauty of Feisty Witch's Twenty-Four Positions for a Successful Time, a magazine article that had been published a week ago, instead.

"You sure you don't want to come to the Burrow?" Percy asked.

"No, Dad wants me home," Oliver said, "but can I come if things don't work out."

"Of course," said Percy, "you can Floo over any time."

"Brilliant, thanks, Percy," Oliver said gratefully. He had spent a lot of energy putting on a positive front through Percy's constant worries, Becca's flirting, and Penelope's careful questions, but that didn't change the fact that he was not looking forward to seeing his father or his aunt.

"If you don't come, I'll just send you your gift by owl," continued Percy, flipping through a catalogue while he waited for Oliver to move his pieces. "Do you think Penny's a Spring or an Autumn?"

Oliver did a double take. "A what, or a _what_? Perce, you've gone all lovey-dovey on me. You're not even going out with her! A Spring or an Autumn." Oliver shook his head. "Honestly."

Percy blushed and threw him the catalogue. "Look! All the necklaces say: 'Pick one in her colour, and she'll love you for life'. How do I know what her colour is?"

"Why don't you just buy her something that doesn't require a colour?" Oliver asked. "A book, perhaps. Or maybe a card that says, 'Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm in love, and it's definitely with you.' She'll love it," he said with a snicker.

"That's not funny," Percy grumbled. "Maybe I'll just settle for some chocolates."

Oliver shrugged, and moved his pawn forward. "Check."

Percy moved his bishop and watched as it broke Oliver's pawn in two. "Not any more," he said softly. He wasn't too fond of Wizard Chess.

Oliver moved his knight. "Clearwater also said I could come to her house if anything. She's not connected to the Floo network, but apparently she doesn't live too far from me." Percy's rook took Oliver's knight. "Not quite sure I want to spend my holidays with a family of Muggles, though."

Percy paid him no heed, and attacked viciously with his queen. Let it never be said he was a bad chess player. "Mum will be pleased to have you. You can meet Charlie, Bill, and Ginny; she's grown since the last time you visited."

Oliver retreated his bishop from Percy's advancements. "Did you hear how all the girls, fourth-year and up, have this wizard porn magazine going on? I heard Liz and Kaylin, from Ravenclaw, talking about it."

"Porn?" Percy asked, shaking his head doubtfully. "It's not allowed at Hogwarts. They could get in trouble."

"Perce, you're not getting the point!" Oliver exclaimed. "What if Clearwater looks at it?" He watched as Percy captured his queen. "It isn't exactly porn, more like pictures of all the hot blokes in Hogwarts."

"_All_ the hot blokes?" Percy echoed. "How would they get the pictures?"

"I don't know. The school is full of girl spies taking pictures." Oliver suddenly looked shocked, as though he'd made a discovery. "The changing rooms! Fred was saying something about what looked like a peephole in the wall... What if they've been talking pictures of _me_?"

"No one has been taking pictures of you, Oliver," Percy said calmly. "Distribution of offensive magazines is not allowed at Hogwarts. You can't expect every girl from fourth-year and up to be buying and selling something that could get them expelled."

"What do you mean they wouldn't be taking pictures of me?" stated Oliver. "Helen Clearwater is Head Girl. Maybe she's behind all this. She wants me, Percy, I know."

"The only way Helen could want _you_, _Oliver_, is if she wanted you dead." Percy smiled. "Checkmate."

Oliver scowled. "Girls are very good at hiding things. I'd say they've been snapping pictures of us and posting them." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked over at Becca's direction. "Eurgh, what if _she's_ been sneaking around our dormitories and stuff? Timothy said he felt like he was being watched once."

"Oliver, you know you're just being paranoid," Percy stated. "Go on, ask Rebecca. Ask her if she's been taking photos of us, and publishing them in ... what's it called?"

"Little Girl's Hogwarts' Hottest," answered Oliver.

"Ah, of course, why didn't I think of that?" Percy said, rolling his eyes slightly. "Go on, then, ask her."

Oliver looked over at Becca, and bit his lip. "Oi, Becca!" he called out. The girl turned around, flushed and looking curious. "Do you take pictures for Little Girl's Hogwarts' Hottest?"

Becca shook her head, but turned around to her best friend Heather, and started giggling. They both turned to look at Oliver and Percy, and then turned back to their gossip.

"See!" Oliver whispered. "She does!"

*

The chief house-elf, Kilcks, brought Marcus Flint's trunk into the main room of Morning Sunrise, the Flint estate. The room was large, with only a few sofas and chairs adorning it. The French doors were all opened, letting in the sunlight. The small fireplace, opposite room where he was standing, wasn't lit. A small bar gave the room a look of business, and two unfinished drinks gave Marcus the idea something had happened, but whether good or bad he wasn't sure yet.

To his left, there was a gracious marble staircase that led to the second floor. A door nearby opened to the kitchen, gardens, and library. Kilcks neither stirred nor said anything; he waited patiently for his young master to give an order.

"Marcus!" a feminine voice called. Down the spiral stairs glided a woman as beautiful as Aphrodite herself. Dressed in a white robe, Marcus's mother was a vision of everything pure. She rushed towards Marcus and embraced him.

"Hello, Mother," Marcus whispered, returning the hug. "How are you?"

"Oh, my darling!" His mother looked at him. "You're even more handsome than when you left for Hogwarts. Come. Your father is upstairs."

Marcus turned towards the house-elf. "Kilcks, take my things to my room." The house-elf nodded and disappeared with a pop, trunk and all.

Marcus followed his mother. The empty glasses in the bar downstairs didn't fool him. His mother never drank, so that meant that either his family had arrived a day early, or his father had company.

A graceful man was staring out the window when Marcus and his mother reached the sitting room upstairs. It was the only room for gatherings on that floor, since every other was either a bedroom or a bathroom.

"Lauren, I thought I asked you not to interrupt -" the man stopped when he saw Marcus. "My boy! You're back early." He moved forward to take a closer look. "How splendid to have you back, Marcus! We've just got top horses from America. I know how much you like to ride."

"Broomsticks," said Marcus, stiffly. Looking at his father made him sick sometimes. While his father had many elf genes - slight build, handsome eyes, straight hair - his nose wasn't very charming. Marcus, unfortunately, had inherited this nose... not to mention large teeth, which he promised he would charm once he was out of Hogwarts. He hadn't inherited any of these traits from them.

"Maybe you should go take a bath, Marcus," his mother said softly. "A nap as well, if you like." She smiled at him, like a mother did to a newborn child. "Your relatives will be arriving around six. You'll want to be refreshed."

"Of course," Marcus said, with a short nod in his father's direction. "Excuse me, Father."

"Of course, of course, a bath," his father mumbled, glancing at his wife, and then looking back at Marcus. "Do hurry, though, for I would like to show you the new stables. We used mahogany wood to restore the roof of the stables. O'Connor, who owns some of the best racing horses, says he'll come to add a few charms to stop mites and other insects."

Marcus bade his mother goodbye and rushed to his room. Apparently, whoever had left his drink untouched had also left early.

"Edward," Lauren said, carefully. "What did Lucius Malfoy want?"

Marcus's father glanced at her tiredly. "Nothing, nothing, m'dear. Why don't you go see if the house-elves have prepared a meal for mother's arrival? You know she only will eat the best."

"Of course, dear," Lauren said, touching her husband's shoulder. Kissing his forehead, she left quickly.

*

Marcus opened the door to his room, one of the biggest in the house. A large canopy bed with light blue sheets stood in the middle. To the right was a balcony, and on the left, the door to the connecting bathroom. One of the walls was actually a built-in shelf where many books on the Dark Arts had gathered dust from little use.

Marcus watched the mirror near his bed with disgust. Unlike most mirrors, this one had a terrible sense of humour. In it lived the soul of Amelia Le Blanc, someone his family had cursed. If Marcus's history was right, Le Blanc had been the lover of one of his great uncles. When his great aunt found the two of them, she cursed Amelia into a mirror, so that the attractive woman would never sleep with anyone again. Somehow Marcus felt this legend was extremely cheesy.

"Hullo, Amelia," Marcus said, testing to see if she was still there.

Suddenly a black-haired woman, perhaps in her late twenties, appeared in view. She smiled at him, and gave a curt nod. "Young Marcus," she said charmingly, "how nice to have you back."

"Same as you, Amelia," Marcus said, taking off his heavy cloak. "What news do you have for me?"

"Mr. Lucius Malfoy was here, sir," Amelia said. Marcus's father had used a sort of charm allowing Amelia to be anywhere in Marcus's room as long as the object was able to give a reflection. It was a great thing for Amelia, who continuously used this to search for the latest gossip.

"What did he want?" asked Marcus suspiciously, taking off his Slytherin jumper as well. "Did he bring that devil spawn of his?"

"No, sir, Mr. Draco wasn't here." Amelia glanced appreciatively at Marcus's chest, when he threw his shirt onto the bed. "Your father and Mr. Malfoy were arguing out in the main garden. I could not hear them..."

"Was my mother there?" Marcus asked, stripping off his trousers. He ducked behind one of the bed's curtains so Amelia couldn't see him.

"No, at least not from where I was." She pouted. "Your French doors don't give much of a view."

Marcus wrapped a sheet around his waist. "I'm going to go shower. If you dare appear in the bathroom mirror, I shall break that." He indicated her current mirror. "And you know what would happen."

"It'd be seven years of bad luck for you," Amelia said grouchily. Marcus took the chance to dash in for a bath.

*

Marcus looked at his reflection carefully. Dressed in black silk robes, he adjusted the olive-green cape around him. He didn't look too bad, but he felt there was still something missing. One of the house-elves had combed his hair carefully and, for some strange reason, a thick mist of some Muggle cologne hung around him.

"Master Marcus, your father is awaiting you in the main garden," one of the smaller house elves squeaked.

Marcus nodded and returned to his reflection. Amelia smiled at him and urged him to go. Tying the strings of his cape once more, he left the room and headed down the stairs.

"Everyone's already gathered outside," a young woman said, as he reached the bottom step. "Your family has outdone itself. Elfish music, Marcus? Sometimes I wonder why our family hasn't just moved to the tree tops and start playing the harp and flute."

Marcus observed the girl in front of him. "Larissa, what a pleasure to see you again," he addressed his older cousin. "Is Grandmother here already?" He offered her his arm.

Larissa took his arm gingerly and followed him outside. "Yes, she is. Already started complaining about the hedges. Apparently, Uncle Edward doesn't have the house-elves tend to them as much as they should."

Marcus heart skipped a beat as he saw most of the Flint family before him. His mother's relatives wouldn't arrive until tomorrow.

"Hullo, mother," Marcus said, as Larissa let go of his arm and gave her aunt a peck on the cheek.

Lauren raised an eyebrow. "_Good evening_, Marcus, go say hello to the rest of your family." She turned him in the direction of his grandmother. "And don't, for the love of Rowena, say 'hullo'."

"Marcus, my boy!" bellowed Larissa's father, Frederick, "How you've grown! Come look, Odette, look at him." Marcus's aunt hurried to her husband's side.

"You look marvellous, Marcus," she said. "Quite the dignified gentleman, I imagine you are."

"Good evening, Uncle Frederick, Aunt Odette." Marcus allowed them to flatter him a bit more before he heading towards his grandmother.

"Evening, grandmother," Marcus said softly, sitting beside her.

His grandmother looked him over first, watchful for any possible imperfections. After a few seconds, she smiled. "Hello, Marcus. Back from school, I see."

"How are you?" Marcus asked.

"Quite well, dear." His grandmother was a petite woman, yet she managed to make everyone feel as small as insects. "Have you brushed up on your Elfish?"

"I haven't had time," Marcus said, carefully. "I'm trying to keep at the top of my class."

"Ah, a remarkable goal. May I remind you, though, that Elfish is in your blood, and it would be criminal if you did not indulge in it. You are a Flint, after all."

*

**Christmas Eve**

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me," sang Pablo, Penelope's uncle, in a rather drunken sort of voice.

Penelope and Helen stifled their giggles, and helped serve some more food.

"A partridge in a pear tree," joined Penelope's parents.

"Good heavens," Helen cried, trying to dash out of their way. "They've gone mad."

"It's Christmas, Hells," Penelope said. "They've always been, ah, festive this time of year."

"Two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"You think they'd take singing practice at least," Helen said, pouring some more orange juice. "Especially dad."

"It could be worse," assured Penelope. "They could be singing _Fred, our Hero Elf_."

"Now that would be plain hideous," Helen admitted. "Don't go giving them any ideas."

"Do you think it'll snow?" Penelope asked, looking out the window for a brief minute. She had sent Percy, Marcus, and Oliver's Christmas gifts not long ago, and she was worried her owl wouldn't make it.

"Three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"The telly said the weather would be bad, but he didn't say anything about snow," Penelope's mother, Clara, said, entering the kitchen. She opened the small oven, and looked in. "The turkey should be done soon."

"Marvellous!" Helen and Penelope exclaimed.

"Shall I make a salad?" Helen offered.

"Will we exchange gifts before dinner?" Penelope asked.

"Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"Penny," her mother said, "presents are for after dinner. You must be patient, dear."

"Oh, but it's only afternoon..." Penelope looked at the clock. "It'll take ages for dinner."

"So, why don't you go do something productive?" Mrs. Clearwater said. "If it'll snow, it'd be best to bring in the chairs. They're in the garden, and they'll be ruined if they get wet."

"You can take Patrick and Victoria to the park," added Helen, referring to their five-year-old cousins. "They've been dying to go out all day. Aunt Mary could use a rest."

"All right, I'll take them to the swings or something," Penelope said grouchily. She grabbed a handful of chocolate chips and marched out the kitchen.

"Five golden rings! Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"Do make sure they wear their cardigans and coats!" yelled Mrs. Clearwater after her.

"You know how Penny gets, mum," Helen said, searching the fridge for mayonnaise. "She loves Christmas, and she gets all bothered up waiting."

"It'll be the death of her," her mother agreed. "Now, why don't you tell me about your boyfriend? He's a wizard, I presume?"

*

"Penny, I want to go on the slide!" Patrick yelled, letting go of his cousin's hand.

"No, I want to go on the swings!" argued Victoria.

"Oi, no arguing," Penelope said, running after the two children. "Come back, you two!"

Finally catching up with both of them (Victoria had stopped to sneeze, and Patrick refused to go on without her), Penelope tried to catch her breath. "I'm never having children," she declared.

"I want to go on the swings," wailed Victoria, while Patrick became interested in a small ladybug.

"Right, we'll go on the swings first, then we'll play on the slide," Penelope said. "Deal?"

"Deal!" the two children echoed, marching behind her.

After much pushing on Penelope's part, it was Victoria that noticed something strange floating in the sky. "Look, Penny," she urged, as Patrick took a turn on the sings. "It's a bird!"

Penelope followed Victoria's line of vision. Swooping towards her was a small white owl. A small chain hanging around its neck with the words _Property of Hogsmeade's Post Office_, and a small parcel was all it carried. The owl hooted, and nipped Penelope's feet.

"Is it yours?" Patrick asked, trying to pet the owl.

"No," Penelope said, untying the parcel. She wasn't quite sure if her young cousins knew that she was a witch. For all she knew, they could be magical themselves.

"Are we going to keep it?" Victoria asked, amazed at the bird's feathers. "It's pretty."

"No, sweetie, this bird belongs to someone already." Penelope wasn't sure whether or note to open the parcel. There was no note, so she couldn't be sure if the parcel needed to be attended to immediately. "Why don't we go home?" she asked them.

*

Julius Flikus, known to more as Julius Flint, gazed at his great-grandson. "Sut naa lle?" he asked, speaking in his native language, Elfish. _How are you_?

Marcus cleared his throat uncomfortably. Any knowledge of Elfish he had was long gone from his mind.

"Uma lle quena i'lambe tel' eldalie?" Julius asked, not looking pleased.

Did he speak Elfish any more? No, not really.

Marcus shook his head.

"Quite disappointing," Julius said, in perfect English.

Marcus bowed his head in shame. "Sorry, Great-Grandfather. School hasn't permitted me to indulge in my studies, though I can still understand you."

Julius shook his head. "School! I told your grandmother sending future lines of Flints to be taught was just a waste of time. I never went to school; I learned from my mentors." He paused and looked at Marcus with regret. "My father taught me how to strike an arrow between the eyes of an animal and how to climb trees quicker than lightning hits the ground. Do you, boy, even know how to row a boat?"

Marcus shook his head, wishing that someone would pull him away from his great-grandfather.

"You learned all that, the art of the Elfish, by the time you were of age. You'd get yourself a decent vessë, then." Julius paused, and shook his head at the prospect of Marcus not taking a wife. "If you don't pick the perfect indis - bride - you will regret it. For an Elfish vessë is eternal, just like we are immortal." Julius, who might have been well into his thousand years, looked no older than perhaps forty, if you squinted, fifty. "You," Julius said to Marcus, "are quarter of Elfish. You will live longer than the average wizard."

"Marcus!" Lauren called. "Marcus, leave Julius alone and come entertain your cousins."

"Go, boy," Julius said, looking at something beyond Marcus, "but remember what I said about your heritage."

*

Oliver had never been a fan of Christmas. He loved the smell of pine trees and fresh piles of snow to jump in, but never the holiday itself. It always seemed to lack something, something that was always imprinted in Christmas cards that gave a glow to the holiday. Oliver simply called this 'thing' his father.

_But it would be different this time_, he reminded himself. His father told him they were spending Christmas together. They'd probably do all kinds of bonding.

At least, that was what he thought before he entered his home. That was what he thought before he saw a girl and a boy in his living room. A girl and a boy he didn't know.

"Who are you?" Oliver asked cautiously.

"I'm Ashley, and this is Michael," the girl, perhaps around 15-years-old, said in a strong American accent.

"Ah, of course, Ashley and Michael. How could I forget?" Oliver said, getting a bit hysterical.

"Oliver?" A man entered the room, followed by a brunette whom Oliver had never seen. "Oliver! You're back! Look how you've grown."

"Hullo, Dad," greeted Oliver, looking suspiciously at the three strange people in the room. "Who are they?"

"Oh," Oliver's father said nervously. "Oliver, this is Rachel, and her children, Ashley and Michael. Rachel works with me."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Oliver," Rachel said, also in an American accent. "Your father talks non-stop about you."

"Why are they here?" Oliver asked, not caring whether he was polite or not.

"Rachel has just divorced her husband, Oliver," his father said, in an angry tone. "Rachel has never been to England, so I invited her and her children to spend Christmas with us."

"Ah," Oliver barely said. "I think I'll go upstairs and have a nap or something."

"I thought you could take Ashley and Michael to the lake," Oliver's father said. "Michael is the captain of his swimming team in California." He turned to Michael and added, "The lake might be frozen, though. You could try to use skating spells."

"Brillo," Oliver mumbled, climbing the stairs, ignoring his aunt.

"Let him go, Robert," his aunt warned his father.

*

Oliver bounced the Quaffle against the wall, over and over again. In half an hour the Christmas feast would start, and he would have to share it with three American strangers.

Ruined, of course. His holidays were completely ruined. He'd be expected to chatter with Ash-whatshername and Mic-soddinggit the entire night. And God only knew what kind of relationship was developing between his father and Rachel.

Well, that was settled. Oliver would have to go over to the Weasleys. Moving over to the fireplace in his room, he searched the orange vase for any trace of Floo powder.

"Don't panic, don't panic," he told himself, as he found there wasn't the slightest pinch of powder. "Dad might have some in the study."

"Oliver!" his aunt called, knocking on his door. "_Oliver_!"

Oliver opened the door. "Yes, Auntie?" he asked solemnly.

"Dear boy, what's the matter with you?" she asked. "You came into this house and marched into your room without saying hello. You looked as if Hogwarts had just decided they were going to teach _Muggles_!"

"I'm sorry," Oliver said. "It's just that dad could have warned me we were having guests."

"Aye, child, I know," his aunt said. "Look, why don't you get dressed, then come down for the feast. I've made all your favourites."

"All right," Oliver agreed, and watched as his aunt left the room.

*

Penelope was used to a lot of odd things. She was accustomed to ghosts, curses, flobberworms, and sweets that made your tongue burn. She had never, though, been as surprised as now, when she entered her room and heard Helen repeating phrases in Elfish.

"I need to learn it for a History of Magic class," Helen explained. "It's just some basic words and sentences, Penny. Don't know why you're all flushed."

"B - but how did you _learn_ it?" Penelope demanded, settling her parcel aside.

"Oh, this book in the library," said Helen. "Pity I had to give it back so soon; someone else needed it."

Penelope was not pleased. "Don't you have another book with you?" she asked.

"No, why?" Helen's tone was suspicious.

"Because I've always wanted to learn Elfish!" Penelope exclaimed, hoping Helen would buy her bookworm act.

"I'm sorry, Penny. Why don't you check out the book when you get back to Hogwarts?"

Penelope pouted and sat on her own bed. Her own sister had had the book in her possession, and she hadn't even known!

"What did you get?" Helen asked after a while, indicating the unopened parcel.

"Oh!" Penelope quickly tore the brown wrapping apart. Both she and Helen gasped when a locket fell into her lap, followed by a note. The transparent, star-shaped locket was on a golden chain. Inside it, a sort of silvery liquid flowed. It was quite beautiful.

"What does the note say?" Helen urged, getting up to sit next to her sister.

Penelope opened the note, and read aloud:

_Dear Penny,_

_Merry Christmas! I hope this owl sends your present all right, the post man said the owl was a bit fresh to its flying. _

_Enclosed with this note is a locket called **Amor Traidora**. It's a Spanish trinket my brother Bill brought back from Egypt. Supposedly it indicates (by the silver liquid turning red) when someone near you is unfaithful, but Charlie reckons it's just a decoration for lovers (which you and I are not). _

_It's also meant to bring good luck, which we'll need if we're ever going to find anything about that Elfish chamber._

_Yours truly,_

_Percy W._

Helen giggled. "Well that's romantic."

Penelope slipped the chain around her neck. "Do I look nice?" she asked.

Helen nodded. "Penny, what's this Elfish chamber Percy was talking about?"

"What? Oh. Er, it's a project we have to do for History," Penelope murmured, picking up the brown wrapping.


End file.
